I have a problem.
I am verbose. (See previous post (although you do have to admit that my first car was unbelievably CUTE. But then you would have had to have read the epic-length post to know that. And kudos to those of you who did! Though, sadly, no mugs will be given out.))
They say the first step to overcoming a problem is admitting it.
Oh, they are so wrong.
But herewith, a reformation in the length of posts. (Well, maybe. We'll see. Actually, doubtful.)
Meanwhile, I am gettin' my Bikram on! Whoo-hee! This is "hot" yoga. As in, 120 degrees F hot. My first foray, with Number One Daughter, and Bex and her s.o., E. (God, I feel like I'm in a witness protection program), was Friday night to the Bikram Yoga Dupont Circle center. I am pleased to say I did not pass out or throw up. My heart did, however, fly out of my throat, and ricochet around the room several times. No one was hurt. Heart rate was easily up past 180.
This is not your father's yoga. It's an intense cardio- and strength-workout. I-N-T-E-N-S-E. Class lasts 90 minutes; you do a series of 26 poses twice. I was sweating buckets just standing still. Afterwards, I felt like I'd been beaten up and spit out. Still, I like to let these things settle before passing judgment.
So, Monday night in Charlottesville, I went again. Woo-hooo!!! Hot, hot, hot. But in C'ville, where life is apparently more civilized than here in D.C. (as if there were any doubt), at the very end of class, when you are in the aptly named "corpse" pose, with the lights off, while you are trying to slow your heart rate down to extremely high, from ridiculously high, the instructor comes by and puts a very very very cold washcloth in your open hand. It's positively orgasmic.
A side affect of Bikram is that afterwards, you sleep the sleep of the dead. Which came in handy in the Super8 motel I was staying in. 'Nuff said.
Tuesday morning, I got up at 6 a.m. and ran for 30 minutes in pitch black in the seemy underbelly of C'ville's 'burbs. Yay, me. With no ID. Duh, me.
Tuesday night: Back to Bikram!! Whoo-hooo! Heart rate up to 186 (I checked). Body: drenched. (Did you know your knee caps can sweat?) (There, I just edited out a verbose sentence. You're welcome.) And, for those keeping count, that's two workouts in one day. Just like all the cool kids are doing.
So, I'm gonna stick with Mr. Bikram for a while. I do need to try to not have a heart attack in class, though. So unseemly.
Meanwhile, in RUNNING news, I am now officially signed up for the following:
1) The Eighteenth Annual St. Patrick's Day 10K, Sunday, March 12, 2006, D.C., (which I will not be ready for, yet again...)
2) The Cherry Blossom Ten Mile Run, April 2, 2006, D.C., (I'm announcing now that I will set a PR at this race. Thank you.)
3) I have signed up with the D.C. Road Runners' Club for their 10K Training Program, which starts Feb. 18, at the height of snow season, because I oh-so-obviously should not be left on my own to train for anything.
4) I am starting to think about, mull over, cogitate on, and generally ponder, my long-awaited DO-OVER of the Marine Corps Marathon next October. Dunno, though. I really need to learn how to run first, I'm thinking.
So, soon, I'll have lots more running chills, thrills, and spills to talk about, along with how Cooking With Yoga feels.
* Apologies to Bolder in Boulder; B: I couldn't help myself! I've been telling NOD nonstop to get her "fill-in-the blank" on. It's getting on her last nerve.